The Poets’ Corner

Poetry Archive

Georgia Williams

Writer, Poet

TO SHARE

Let neither of our natures be denied – your demons

May turn themselves out on the street as rain

From that Babylon above; she who lives in the periphery

I long to catch for the cheap thrill of release
Cheap as the eagerness of earth when our liquid self falls
For real liberation is one all can experience, the cheapest
And the truest. Such yearnings need not be misunderstood
If they can dance with my own streaks of lunacy
Someone else was there at sea, guiding you home
Peering through glass when it was said to be unlucky

Awake but not alone. I was laying down my offering

In hopes it would be looked upon as the beginnings of a nest.
Wrap me in your wings so that mine may rest
Threadbare from Time’s unstitching, and yours sodden
In hesitation
One must have faith in the moon not to drown
Just as I trust in water, unblinded
That is why we came down from the sky after all

Eleanor Rose Scott

Writer, Poet

Venus on a Friday

‘Venus on a Friday’

Call me superstitious,

When I look you in the eye,

As you point me to a Bright Star,

It’s Venus in the sky.

The planet of desire was so gorgeous I could cry,

As you spoke of Bertolucci,

Did a shooting star go by?

Call me sentimental,

As I become attached,

To a turn of phrase, a silly joke,

Or the ideas we mismatch,

The streets all follow street signs,

And I’m rambling, quite lost,

Finding connections where lost streets meet,

Thoughts thought and sand lines crossed,

My rhymes make no sense, clearly,

Cheeks flushed, feeling the heat,

The window-panes glow as we pass by,

Following stray feet,

Call me something or other,

For not feeling the cold,

By the light of day I’m keeling,

Nights, shivering and old,

Call me sometime, maybe?

We’ve lingered too long in the sea,

And I cannot be certain, I’m always unsure,

That its not just The Dreamers and me,

Who feel in dark rooms a certain static,

A dark electricity,

But Venus on a Friday?

In this time and place?

Feels even more remarkable,

Than sharing the same space.

Joanie O’ Mara Writer, Poet

WAITING ROOM

This is a calamity 

Of rose petals, this

Is the endless waiting

Room: 

Naked bulbs buzz and

The christmas tree is 

Gone 

My teeth fall out 

One by one (no blood)

I string them up and

Wear them around my

Neck and stop smiling

Alarm clock buzzes

Falls to the floor,

Breaks 

I start sneezing

(again)

I let him touch me

With his words and

Try to take me 

Somewhere

The ceiling collapses

Nobody flinches, 

It is quiet –

Strange.

From beneath the rubble

The shrill yell of tin can

Soup promises a nutritious

Future 

One where the sun 

Is still in the sky and

Black and White 

Prevails 

I check my watch 

But 

It isn’t there

Carys Maloney

Writer, Poet

Girl

I don’t wanna be a Bond Girl.

I don’t wanna be a Model.

I don’t wanna be your saviour, 

Your fantasy, or your double.

I want to wake the world

To fuck up and make trouble.

I want to take the Universal Spirit 

And shove it down your throat.

To mould the Collective Unconscious 

Purge our trauma, bring us home.

I want to make a fucking mark

Stab a stranger through the heart

To let love in, let love out

Wipe the shit from earthly mouths

I’m a pacifist wielding a pen 

The same old story born again 

I’m Joan of Arc, Mary Magdalene 

Every female archetypal trapping

A Trappist monk, your local shrink

The kind of girl to make you think

A literary brain, a fuckload of pain

The whole fucking cosmos in my veins

I’m an It Girl 

I’m a Rebel Girl

I’m a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

I’m ch-ch-ch Cherry Bomb!

I’m a boss bitch, whore, witch 

I’m a Free Bitch Baby!

I am yours—yours—yours 

Alone.

I am that 

that I am 

in relation

to you.

I am none of these things.

I am all of these things.

Give me a box to curl up and die in.

I was brought up to be respectable—

To line my lungs with pleases and pleasantries.

I’m a well-spoken self-educated proletariat 

Barely getting by—

The hope lies in me telling you 

To stick it where the sun don’t shine.

I don’t give a damn about your 

Flying tectonic atomic cowardice 

Heinous murder future obliteration

Of Youth, and the Land where they

Would have lived, whilst we looked on

And grew old wonderfully.

Cold hearts in air-conditioned new builds

Pulling strings and pricing tampons.

Meaning is mischannelled.

The atomisation of humanity 

For the sake of competition, capitalism,

—Obnoxious pretentious long word here—

Why can’t we give love one more chance?

Ah, but vulnerability 

is the most impactful 

intervention 

in—the—world.

Alexandra Dominica

Writer, Poet

BLACK SHEEP

I’m the black sheep 

who slept through the feast

I ran from the gutting knife

a close shave at the least

There will be no flock

There will be no shepherd 

Few women can survive

the storms I have weathered

They called me a liar

 But I didn’t mind

I wore my black fleece

and left them behind

The joke was on me

But now it’s on you 

 For everything I said 

turned out to be true.

Alexandra Dominica  

Eliza Fiver

Writer, Poet

HUNGOVER

I dreamt of you nearly every night this week

And if I’m under you it means that I cant sleep

Do you know what this means

I’m reckless and restless, looking back at what’d been

I miss the summer now the winter’s colder

I miss being close, much closer

I miss resting my head on your shoulder

I miss when the worst thing I could get was

HUNGOVER

I dreamt of you nearly every night this week

It leaves me tired, it leaves me weak

The memories hit but I feel incomplete

I’m so drained you’re going to have to give up your seat

I miss when we were young, now I feel older

I have’nt seen you since I told ya

I drink to forget we’re over

But the only thing I get is

HUNGOVER

I dreamt of you nearly every night this week

I fell in love the way you fall asleep

Slowly, then all at once

Its a night mare, inescapable nightmare

Light me up like you’re a smoker

You’re the card I cant use, joker

Intoxicates me, but I’m sober

That toxic love makes me feel so

HUNGOVER

I dreamt of you nearly every night this week

I saw you through the windscreen in the drivers seat

You knocked me over, knocked me off my feet

Driving hazy, driving crazy, you were driving down my street

You drive me crazy

Now I’m driving crazy

I’m drunk driving crazy

I can’t drive

The police are on my tail

The blue lights give me hell 

I’m getting pulled over

I’m breathalised

Am I alive

Feel sick

Open eyes

I’m HUNGOVER.